Confessions

When I use public washrooms, if there is a stall with a broken lock, I’ll usually take it.  I figure way less people are willing to do their business in a stall that could swing open at any moment, so it’s probably the cleanest one.  For that kind of clean bum security, I’ll pee in an awkward position for 20 seconds while I hold the door closed with one hand.

Speaking of pee, if I have to go REALLY bad, and have had to hold it a long time, and then I finally get to go, I’ll usually time how long my pee lasts.  My current record is 53 seconds. 

I’m glad that Anaheim is out of the NHL playoffs, only because then I don’t have to hear the name “Chris Pronger” anymore.  I don’t have many regrets in my life, but one of them involves Chris Pronger.  A few years ago on a flight home from LA after a work trip, he was on my flight (right after they one the Cup – he was on his way back to Toronto for the NHL awards).  I didn’t go up and talk to him, and I’ve regretted it ever since.   When I was boarding the plane, I walked by him, and, you know where you do that move when you recognize someone but you just can’t place them, so you stare a little bit longer as your brain goes through it’s mental filing cabinet trying to figure it out?  Yeah, well I did that (obvi), BUT, the thing is…HE KEPT STARING AT ME TOO!!  The whole time I stared at him.  I’m pretty sure we were meant to be besties, and I’m ALSO pretty sure that if I’d have just gone up and said “hey, you’re Chris Pronger – congrats on winning the Cup!”  He would have replied with “Thanks!  Umm, I don’t usually do this, but I’m still kind of dateless for the NHL awards next week – do you think you could do me the honour of being my date?”  At which point I would have to reply “Chris, I’m honoured, but I’m married, so I don’t feel right going on a date with someone else – even if it IS just as b.f.f’s”  And then he would probably have said “Sure.  I totally understand that.  Man! Is your husband ever a lucky guy”.   So, needless to say, I’m just glad that Anaheim is out of the playoffs so I don’t have to keep re-living the brush with fame that should have been.

When Ben is fast asleep and I am still lying there awake.  I’ll usually do 1 of 2 things:  Either steal his body heat by sticking my ice cold feet in the pockets behind his knees (my usual move), or I try and get him to talk in his sleep by waking him up slightly.  (ok, ok, I only do this like, once every month.  I’m not THAT mean)

Sometimes I let my imagination get the best of me, and the other day when I was walking to work, I all of the sudden got worried that Ben would be in a car accident.  I ended up imagining him dying, and having to plan his funeral, and by the time I got to work, I was crying my brown little eyes out.  (Sheesh, I’m ridiculous)

I think that’s all I got for now.  I’ll let you know if I all of the sudden become burdened by a deep, dark secret.